* * *
Even with his ragged appearance, the boy had not lost his beauty.
He slumped onto the unkempt dirt ground, panting.
This was a place no one from the duke’s estate ever visited—simply because the prison was right next door.
Given the location, the boy’s ragged breaths echoed in the silence.
Unable to contain his fury, he yanked at his own hair before muttering darkly.
“That crazy bastard… Always taking it out on me. I can’t live like this. Even if I get beaten to death, I’ll just act insane and beat them all to a pulp one day…”
As he harbored his sinister yet cunning desire for revenge, a laugh suddenly rang out.
It had been over a month since he started using this place as his secret hideout, knowing no one else ever came here.
Since he’d never encountered another soul in all that time, Sia instinctively tensed.
He braced himself, scanning the surroundings with wary eyes, when a strangely languid yet elegant voice tickled his ears.
“Hey, kid, don’t curse.”
The voice, though slightly rough, was unmistakably human.
Sia shrank back at the unfamiliar sound.
He had never heard this voice before in all his time at the duke’s estate.
He looked around, trying to find the source, but there was no one in sight.
Nervously, the boy shouted.
“W-Who’s there?! And I’m not a kid!”
“Me? I’m…”
The voice trailed off, leaving only silence.
Just as Sia, hesitantly stepping backward, was about to flee, the voice spoke again.
“A ghost.”
Sia flinched at the casual answer.
Under normal circumstances, he would have scoffed and brushed it off.
But of all places, this was near the prison.
And over the past month, he’d occasionally heard faint sobbing and screams from this area.
Unconsciously, he froze.
Forcing strength into his trembling eyes, Sia stammered out a response.
“…A-Are you insane? Ghosts don’t exist!”
He had meant to sound confident, but his words stumbled, ruining the effect.
Predictably, the unknown speaker seized on his mistake with playful amusement.
“Kid, your voice is shaking.”
The mischievous remark made Sia’s face turn ice-cold.
Ghosts, by nature, were supposed to be filled with resentment.
He had never heard of one being this lighthearted.
“…Who are you, really?”
He asked, his voice slightly strained.
A gentle voice, as if soothing a baby, followed.
“Oh dear, don’t worry. I’m human. You’re right—ghosts don’t exist.”
Even if they did, humans were far scarier, so there was no need to be afraid.
The soft chuckle accompanying those words only irritated Sia further.
His cheeks flushed involuntarily as he snapped back.
“Do you think it’s fun messing with me?”
“Maybe because it’s been a while since I met someone who reacts so honestly? Yeah, I guess it is fun.”
With the other person answering so bluntly, there was nothing he could say in return.
Sia’s lips parted in disbelief, but before he could speak, the voice continued—this time, sounding slightly fatigued.
“Ah… I talked too much after so long. My throat hurts. Hey, kid, if you don’t mind, come back tomorrow and keep me company.”
It had only been a few minutes—how was he already exhausted?
Sia thought it was ridiculous, but at the same time, the man didn’t seem to be lying.
So, he didn’t question it.
“I’m not a kid.”
Puffing out his cheeks in protest, he ran his tongue over his split lips before muttering.
“…Fine.”
“And for the record, I’ve been coming here every day.”
In other words, he would be back tomorrow.
At Sia’s gruff response, the unseen man fell silent for a moment before letting out a soft laugh.
The lighthearted sound was strangely out of place in this setting.
Just as Sia, instinctively pulling back his lips, was about to speak, the man murmured quietly.
“Really? …I didn’t know. I was always asleep.”
That whispered sigh was the last thing he heard.
The moment the silence stretched on, reality came crashing back.
Sia blinked slowly, registering the dull throbbing in his bruised ankle.
“…What’s your name?”
His cautious question was met with nothing but silence.
It felt like he had been enchanted by a ghost.
Taking a wary step back, Sia suddenly realized he had started running.
By the time he regained his senses, he was already gasping for breath in an area where people occasionally passed by.
Barefoot, his feet were now stinging with fresh wounds from the frantic escape.
Limping slightly, he muttered under his breath.
“…I said I’d come back tomorrow.”
The words sounded more like an excuse.
Sealing his lips tightly, Sia stared straight ahead.
A lukewarm trickle of blood ran down his shin, seeping from a wound on his calf.
Sold to a slave caravan after his parents were murdered by bandits, and eventually ending up a slave in this estate—Sia had long since learned to recognize his own kind.
That man, the one he had exchanged those few words with, was just like him.
Lonely. Miserable.
The sadness buried beneath that gentle voice hadn’t been obvious, but Sia had noticed it.
Humans, by instinct, recognize others who share their misfortune.
With that, the boy—daring to empathize with the man’s sorrow—walked on, leaving drops of blood in his wake.
Just then, a young servant, who had been scanning the area as if searching for something, spotted him and hurried over.
“Hey! Break time’s over! Where the hell were you? I got scolded because of you.”
Sia’s expression twisted at the boy’s grating, voice-cracking complaint.
His fingers twitched.
He almost clapped his hands over his ears—or better yet, smacked that annoying mouth shut.
But he knew that would only lead to more trouble.
Enduring it, he clenched and unclenched his fists behind his back.
Fixing his gaze somewhere in the distance, he tuned out the nagging.
It wasn’t until the servant asked, “You’re listening, right?” that he finally nodded absentmindedly.
Still dissatisfied, the servant poked Sia’s forehead.
“You better behave. Keep acting like that, and they’ll sell you back to the slave traders.”
A threat adults often used whenever Sia didn’t obey.
He flinched, just for a second, before forcing himself to nod.
Only then did the servant look satisfied and start walking ahead.
“Hurry up!”
Sia followed, his expression darkened.
The other boy’s pace showed no concern for his injured leg.
Trailing behind, Sia silently cursed him out in his head.
After being dumped at his assigned work area, Sia retrieved cleaning supplies and got to work.
He wiped each window one by one, moving the ladder as he went.
By the time he finished, the sun was already setting.
The blood that had welled up in his wounds had dried, and no fresh blood seeped through.
A quick glance confirmed the multiple cuts crisscrossing his pale calf.
Returning the cleaning supplies, Sia noted it was about time to prepare dinner.
He moved quickly to the kitchen before someone could come looking for him.
“You’re late!”
“Yes, I’m coming.”
“Start prepping the ingredients.”
“Oh, when you’re done with that, come stir this for me.”
“Yes.”
Sia moved busily around the kitchen until the meal preparations were finished.
Everyone knew about the wound on his calf, but no one seemed concerned for the child.
When the evening work was done, the cook handed him a portion of food with an indifferent expression.
It was far from enough for a growing child, but Sha, as always, uttered no complaint.
Taking his food, he stepped out into the hallway and sat on the deserted staircase, quietly finishing every last bite.
Afterward, he picked up his empty dish and returned to the kitchen to wash it.
As usual, his chores weren’t over yet—he scrubbed the growing pile of dishes, tidied up the Grand Duke Letiyan’s bedroom, and only then was his day finally done.
At the very end of the servants’ quarters, in the smallest and most cramped room, Sia shut the door and crouched down on the floor.
“I’m so tired I could die…”
He muttered the words like a sigh, burying his face against his knees.
Slowly, his dangling hands moved, carefully brushing over his calf.
Even the slightest touch should have stung, but he didn’t hesitate as he ran his fingers over the raw wounds.
Then, with a dull thud, his hand dropped, and a deep sigh escaped him.
“I miss Mom and Dad.”
His quiet murmuring was something he would never dare say in front of others.
But here, alone, his real feelings came out so easily.
With his eyes shut tight, Sia simply breathed in and out, staring blankly into nothingness.
The moment his parents died, he had been sold to a slave merchant.
He never even got to see what became of their bodies.
No one here would give him an answer, even if he asked.
And more than anything, after losing his parents, Sia had stopped trusting others altogether.
A weakness was just another weapon for someone else to use.
Any honest words could be twisted and turned into a leash around his neck.
Any genuine denial would only serve to justify violence.
In a world filled with reasons why he should break himself to pieces, Sia lowered his gaze.
“I really hate this.”
He had no reason to live.
The thought surfaced before he even realized it, and the realization startled him.
His shoulders flinched as if struck by an unexpected chill.
“…Not until I find out why Mom and Dad died.”
Not because suicide was wrong.
Not because death wouldn’t solve anything.
But because if he died now, he would never learn the truth behind their suspicious deaths.
* * *
